First Flight
by FairVxrona
Summary: He is her first everything. She values the first collision of lips which once quivered under the weight of her own worries. But with first formations come first fatalities. Will wings last or do they descend into their own tragedy? Hiyori x Shinji. Oneshot.


"Date me."

She releases her words through an exhalation of insecurity that's shrouded by a bold move. Eyes avoid his gaze, despite how desperate she is to receive his answer. Fists are clenched and she squeezes until her knuckles embrace an ivory environment. Fingers fiddle with the fabric of her jacket, but still she does her best to support a determined demeanor. This wasn't exactly how she wanted their story to start; she often read that it was the boy who asked the girl out and yet he never made his interest apparent. It was her anxious nature which sparked this demand and if he were to deny her, at least she could take pride in the fact that an attempt was made.

He reacts as if he had not heard her; or rather, he convinced himself that the calling of adoration was not directed towards him. But he sees it in her golden gaze; that essence of guilt which lines itself along the layers of her entirety. Suddenly he feels bad for taking her statement as something less serious. In truth, he had not expected her to utter infatuation, nor did he believe she was capable of such a boisterous bellowing dedicated to the concept of like. Yet here she remains before him in a form so fragile; she is not seen as weak, but merely too exposed compared to her usual escapades. A chuckle escapes his blushing borders, sung in a way that remains reserved for her ears alone. He's satisfied with her submission and proceeds to lean forward, inches from her adverted interests, seeking to capture her attention.

Cardinals rush to bury their feathers along the flesh of her cheeks, encouraging heat to rise along a porcelain presence, further revealing her embarrassment. Something unusual dances from the depths of her stomach and she feels uncertain about her own actions. Her head turns to acknowledge his existence and she reveals a look that lists her current frustrations.

"What the fuck is so funny? Just say no if you think it's so amusing, idiot."

Amusement exists through the form of a simple gesture. The hand that once resided within his pocket now curled itself up into a fist before it was brought down onto her head in a playful manner. Knuckles nuzzled the strands of sunlight existing from her person and he continued to harass her head until she finally got the idea.

"You're the idiot here. If you're going to be my girlfriend, you can't make assumptions."

That was their first flight; the incarnations of their infatuations were sent into skies to soar alongside hearts which beat for the same reason. And she is exhilarated by his acceptance by means of suppressing her aggression. His hand is swatted away and yet she finds comfort in holding it; feeling fingers once foreign, but finding comfort in their strength to hold the very molding of her make.

He is her first everything. She values the first collision of lips which once quivered under the weight of her own worries. Would she mess this up? Would her lips linger too long? Would it even be good enough?

Fingers clung to the fabric of his shirt, desperate to keep him close as she attempted to advance to his height. He entertains her action, amused by her dedication to capture the kiss. He takes a moment to admire this occasion, finding fulfillment in being the only individual to claim this collision. But his enchantment only deepens upon the moment that their mouths meet, exchanging silent sentiments that progress into passionate partings. Suddenly his fingers are in her hair and she can no longer balance herself on her toes. She wonders if she would feel this way if she kissed someone else, but the desire to do so was almost nonexistent. Her lips are soft, but he can taste her bruises. He is infatuated with her resistance to pain, assuming she had adjusted to these self-inflicted injuries from the occasional, accidental bitings bestowed upon her borders.

When he departs, he does not intend to cease. Instead, digits motion to grasp her chin, lowering her lip with intentions to deliver special attention to that blemished barrier. These wounds are now his to adore and attend. He doesn't want their connection to be dismissed; he wants her to remember, in such vivid detail, the moment he became her first kiss.

Eventually the concept of first would fade and these collisions became part of a repetition they didn't mind managing. They move onward into a domain of desire; engaging in a lecture of lust in which she once could not comprehend. She had convinced herself that she was to be the bride received in ivory. But with him, she felt as though her heart was held in capable hands. It was difficult for her to discard this idea of virtue, but she felt protected in the palms which preserved her from pains and provided her with pleasures she could once only imagine. In that moment, she didn't regret him being her first erotic encounter.

She would play back his concern, finding comfort in how he caressed her face the moment he noticed a reflection of regret. This no longer became an event of self-satisfaction; rather, he was devoted to her own delights and indulged in the way of which she expressed her approval of his endless exertions. He had never witnessed something as beautiful as the breaking of brutality. How she blossomed into a being of magnificent make; a form which exceeded her already appealing entity. He began to understand what resided beneath those resilient walls. She would undo herself before him, but remain so strong, absent of savageries and violent things. She fell asleep in his arms; this was the first time she truly felt safe.

With first flights come the first fall. It was inevitable with dealing with a creature of calamity. He should've known they weren't picture perfect and she wasn't exactly this unhidden innocence he convinced himself to see. Her ferocity became apparent through the form of jealousy. She expressed it in ways which challenged his sanity.

He still remembers the first time it happened. She caught him glancing at another woman, but his mind was absent of interest towards her existence, she was merely an image, one that awoke his own personal thoughts. He didn't think about what it would be like to kiss her or have her instead of Hiyori. Rather, he found himself contemplating where he would be if he was without her. However, she wouldn't hear it. She imposed her malice onto his make, marking him with her sandal until she was calm enough to entertain his explanation. He would see how upset she was; hatred lingered along the outlines of her eyes in the form of heated waters. They descended with every word that left his lips until he gave in and allowed her to believe what she wanted. There was no point in arguing with the boisterous blonde; she was selective with her stories.

That moment changed the way she saw herself and it awoke insecurities she never knew she had. And because they were such recent discoveries, she had trouble formatting her frustrations. These difficulties only influenced her anger to grow and the two found themselves fighting often, even over instances so petty. But it was this that lead them to their first forgiveness; a step which solidified their bond, although briefly. She'd breathe out her bitterness until he grasped the basics of her feelings, only to offer reassurance that his sentiments remained the same. And in that instant, she did believe him, but once he left she found herself sinking once more into that state of mind that convinced her that she held no significance.

Wings were weighed down by their woe. After constantly being rebuilt, they found themselves damaged beyond repair. He couldn't keep this up; the act of repeatedly reassuring her that their love was limitless. She herself could no longer handle the ache of this adoration she claimed to be unanswered. He didn't like repeating himself, but most of all he felt a sense of betrayal from her lack of confidence in their own connection. He was so certain he could keep her happy; it amazed him to see something so forcible and firm fall apart as if it were brittle from the beginning. There was distance in their devotion, but she was too distracted to fix it.

As much as she wants to navigate through numbness, her senses are spoiled by the solitude she was left with. His presence is still so perfect; she wonders why she remembers this more vividly than the rest of her firsts.

"Hiyori, no. I'm exhausted."

Upon hearing him say this, she lowers her arms. The animosity she had acquired was put aside by his words. His very tone was toting tiredness, but his expression held such enervation that she instantly felt guilt for draining his demeanor. She didn't know how to respond, so she remained still as he sat before her.

"We can't keep doing this every day. I can't keep doing it."

Deep down she knew what he was implying, but she wanted to play the fool. She wanted to believe that it would be fine and this was just another day that they disagreed then came together again. But ignorance is deceptive; it hides behind bliss while feeding fibs so that the heart could sustain its shields.

"Shinji, quit being stupid! Maybe if you listened to me for once, we wouldn't be in this situation!"

This was the first time he looked at her since they both began their banter. Disappointment drowned the delectation that once existed in his harmonious hues. He scolded her without speaking, waiting for her to find the words he wanted to say through a look alone. A sigh escaped him right before he shook his head.

"I listen to you every damn day and it's literally the same story."

She remained before him defeated, but for once she didn't react. Rage did not guide her response, nor did the desire to destroy him for saying something so damaging. She wasn't an idiot; an individual such as herself could take the hint from his point. But she didn't leave him with silence. With lowered fists, she approached him. In her gaze existed a honey haunting reflecting a phantasm of her failure. She couldn't hurt him for feeling this way; for once, it wasn't an assumption. But she would leave him with bruises along his beating breast; the same to match the malice existing upon hers as well. A finger remains extended towards his expression as she utters the words he too will be forced to engrave into his brain.

"You are the first person to ever break my heart. I just want you to know that, Shinji. You will always be the first one and I won't let that go."

They find themselves in faraway places, lingering in beds with pictures in their heads of happiness heaven sent. And the first thought he has before he goes to sleep is the sensation of her in his grasp. His muscle reminds him of her very shape and he cuddles close the vision of a forgotten fragment belonging to his bliss. For a brief moment, he experiences his first regret. Realizing that his first mistake in the entirety of his existence was letting go of something he should've practiced patience with. He remains uncertain as to whether or not he was reckless; it drifts along the dreams that focus on his former flame. Such a fire has yet to be extinguished, but still he sleeps at night. He rests with a hushed hope that she might be there when his eyes embrace the brilliance of Helios.

The God would gather them onto his chariot and reintroduce the road belonging to their first and favored flight.


End file.
